Fade
by blamless
Summary: post Reichenbach. John is addicted to a hallucinatory drug, that lets him see Sherlock again .But what happens when Sherlock returns? Horrible summary, sorry! This is my first fic so please be nice.
1. Chapter 1

_**FADE**_

_Chapter 1_

It started as an experiment. John had seen some of the other soldiers using it in Afghanistan, a hallucinatory drug that would let you see and speak to your loved ones again. He had even tried it once, and had a nice conversation with a sober Harry. But the next time he had spoken with her in real life, John had been surprised to find her drunk and stuttering. After that he decided to never use it again.

This time it was different though, it had been a year since Sherlock...fell, and John still had a hard time not finding him doing an experiment in the kitchen or plucking at his violin in the living room. God, he missed that arrogant bastard. John just couldn't understand why he even did it. If he could speak to him again, discuss the events of that day, would he finally be able to understand? Anything would be better than not knowing.

Getting the drug was easy. John just had to use his old military contacts, and within the week he had been supplied with around a months worth of product. It wasn't cheap, but Sherlock had left him a large sum of money in his will, and John figured Sherlock wouldn't mind him using it to gain knowledge.

He decided to be careful, John had seen good men get addicted to the stuff and become a danger to themselves and others. He just wanted to see Sherlock again, speak to him, and listen to that deep baritone voice. Maybe, it would help him adapt to the fact that Sherlock wasn't around anymore.

The first time was not what John expected. It had been wonderful to see Sherlock again, but the first thing out of his mouth was "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is dangerous John." It had started an argument that got so loud Mrs. Hudson had come running to see what John was yelling about.

The next few times Sherlock never failed to start their conversations with some form of "This is dangerous." But the longer John used the less Sherlock would warn him, and eventually he stopped altogether, finally resulting in just looking at him with his sad grey eyes. John also restricted their meetings to the confines of 221b, at first. But, after the fifth time he tried to turn and comment about something to him at the store or on the street, John started leaving the flat with Sherlock in tow. People would look at him when he started talking to Sherlock, in the back of his mind he knew it was because Sherlock was not really there, but he ignored them.

At first Sherlock didn't like to speak when they were in public, he didnt like the looks John got. When John started ignoring the looks Sherlock became more talkative. A few weeks later he started making deductions, but they weren't like his old deductions, now they're mostly small things:

"That woman had a bad morning."

"He just got fired."

"They're going through a divorce."

They were nothing like his old grand deductions where he would know a person's life story, but they made him smile or laugh every time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John was running low again. His supplier couldn't get him anymore for at least a week and John had to ration the amount he had left. He would not see Sherlock again for another day and a half, well maybe three-quarters of a day. John figured he had enough to be a little flexible. But he was going out for dinner at Angelo's tonight, and Sherlock was the one to suggest it, he probably wanted to come along. It's always hard to tell with Sherlock though, John had not seen him since last night, he might have changed his mind. Sherlock was always grumpy when he was dragged somewhere he didn't want to go, John should probably make sure he hadn't changed his mind.

"Sherlock?"

"John, it's been 36 hours already? Strange, it only felt like 12." He was giving John the_ 'this is dangerous' _look again.

"No Sherlock, it hasn't been 36 hours yet. But..." But what? He wanted to see Sherlock again and couldn't wait? Sherlock wouldn't want to hear that, he would make some comment about sentiment.

"But?" Sherlock inquired, raising his eyebrow and making a _'there better be a good reason this time_' face.

"But, I was wondering if we were still going to Angelo's for dinner tonight."John quickly covered "You had mentioned it last night, but I know how often you change your mind."

Sherlock sighed "I made that suggestion for you, John. You haven't left the flat for days. You need fresh air, you need to get out and walk around for a bit. I shouldn't need to tell a doctor that sitting around the flat, doing nothing, is unhealthy. No, I did not intend to come with you; call Lestrade, have some other form of interaction that doesn't involve me."

John was speechless. Do something without Sherlock? He hadn't done that for months. Sherlock was always with him now. Even if he didn't always speak, Sherlock would always be standing there when John looked back.

"I...uh..ok then... I guess I can try to call Lestrade. But, you aren't going to come?"

Sherlock sighed again, this time it was an exasperated sigh. "I suppose I have to come now that I am here. Next time I shall have to make my intention of not coming along clearer."

John smiled and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Sherlock was coming with him. John hadn't seen Lestrade since the funeral, and he was not sure he could have spoken to him again with out Sherlock there to ease the tension.

Sherlock was looking at him with those sad grey eyes again. He must be doing the mind reading thing that he had picked up since John had started seeing him again. Sherlock always seemed to know what John was thinking now; when he would start sinking into depression, Sherlock would be there with his witty remarks and deductions to pull John's mind to happier thoughts.

When John tried to call Lestrade at Scotland Yard, he was told that Lestrade had been called out to a crime scene. Sherlock perked up at the mention of a crime scene, he had missed solving cases and running through the streets of London.

So it was settled that John would leave the flat for the first time in weeks, and it was to go to a crime scene, just like old times. Except instead of Sherlock excitedly leading the way with John in tow, Sherlock walked slightly behind John, letting him lead the way. The crime scene was close enough that they could just walk and be there in around fifteen minutes; for most of the trip Sherlock remained oddly silent, well for Sherlock anyway, he only made a few deductions. Most of them were silly ones that made John laugh. But neither of them noticed the security cameras that would silently follow their movements. They also never noticed that they had done so for the past few weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As usual Sally Donovan was the one guarding the 'Do Not Cross' tape when John and Sherlock walked up. She was watching a group of teenagers hanging around the tape a little ways away, so she didn't notice John until Sherlock mentioned that she had spent another night cleaning Anderson's floor and he busted into a bout of uncontrollable giggles. Sally turned to shoot a glare at the idiot who would giggle at a crime scene, but her glare quickly turned to shock as she recognized John.

"John? Didn't expect to see you coming to a crime scene again... how have you been lately?"

"Things have been good," Sherlock snorted, and John sent him a glare "I was actually looking for Lestrade." John sent the glare to Sherlock right when the group of teens started laughing at a joke, so Sally didn't notice the movement. Even if she had though, Sherlock was standing between John and the group of teens, it would have looked like John was glaring at them.

"Lestrade? He's over examining the body with Anderson."

Sherlock snorted again. "No doubt Anderson's missed everything important, and screwed up all the rest. Lets see if she will let us take a look."

"No Sherlock!" John hissed.

Sally, who had looked at the group of teens again, looked back at John. "Pardon?"

"Oh... uh. Shucks." Sherlock looked at him with a 'that's the best you can come up with?' Look and gestured to Sally. John let out a deep breath "I... uh... do you think I could go take a look?"

"Oh, John. I don't think that's a good idea, what with history and all." She was at least considerate enough to not say his name... Then she ruined it. "While we're on the subject. I did try to warn you... about him. You should have listened, and taken my advice, before you got caught up in Sherlock's mess."

John was silent for about 30 seconds, then he exploded. "Who the hell do you think you are!? Trying to tell me who I can and can't hang around! It was MY decision then, and it is MY decision now! You have no fucking right to give me the fucking 'I told you so' speech! Sherlock is a far better person than you could ever fucking hope to be!" Then he turned to Sherlock, "Lets get out of here." And left Sally shocked at his out burst, and wondering who the hell John wanted to leave with him.

"John!" Lestrade's voice called from behind him. "John wait up a minute will ya?" At first John wasn't intending to stop, but Sherlock's firm hand on his shoulder, made him do otherwise. So he stopped and waited for Lestrade to catch up, scowling at Sherlock the entire time. "I been meaning to catch up with you all week, mate, but things have been hectic for a while and I couldn't get away. Anyway, I'm sorry about what Sally said. It was way out of line. She said you were looking for me though, so what can I do for ya?" He said it all in a rush, like he was afraid John would storm off again before he could finish.

Sherlock was looking Lestrade up and down. "Bags under his eyes, posture slightly more hunched over than usual, disheveled appearance. He's right John, it does look like things at the yard have been hectic lately."

"I can see that for myself, thank you." John shot at Sherlock, his blood was still boiling about Sally's audacity.

"See what?" Lestrade asked looking confused and a little concerned.

"Oh, Sherlock was just mentioning that things do look like they've been busy."

"John..." Lestrade said slowly "Sherlock's not here...Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes he is, Sherlock's standing right here. And I'm feeling perfectly fine. Can't you -"

"John he can't see me, and now you sound like an idiot." Sherlock cut him off sharply.

John stared at Sherlock in confusion. "What do you mean he can't see you?"

Sherlock was cut off before he could reply by Lestrade's concerned voice,"John? Is everything all right?"

"What? yeah, of course it is, I am perfectly fine."

"Are you sure there isn't something I should know? Your not in any kind of trouble are you?"

"What? No, nothing like that. I've just been...feeling a bit off lately."

Lestrade looked sceptical, but decided to drop the matter. John did look a little paler than usual, it's possible that he might not be feeling well. But what the hell did he know? He was no Sherlock Holmes after all. "Alright, what did you want to see me about?"

"Oh right, its been a while since we've had a good chat. Later I thought we could hop on down to the pub for a drink, and catch up a bit."

"I'd love to John, but we have been swamped with cases lately, and things are a lot slower nowadays... than they used to be." Lestrade finished awkwardly. "I'll let you know when I'm free and we can go."

"Ok, yea, I understand. Let me know when it's convenient for you. I've had more free time since... just let me know alright?" John smiled at Lestrade, Sherlock had been the one pushing the 'social interaction,' John was perfectly happy with just sitting in 221B and talking to Sherlock. "Oh and good luck with the case."

"Thanks, and John, Stay out of trouble will ya?" Lestrade winked jokingly at John, then waved and walked back to the crime scene.

"He knows that there's something different about you, John. It's a good mark on his years as a police officer, that he didn't push the matter. But, you might start seeing him around more often."

"I have nothing to hide, Sherlock. Why are you so worried?" John turned and started walking back up the street.

He had only walked a block; however, when the smooth black car pulled up beside him. And a voice he recognized was telling him to "please get in the car Dr. Watson."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait, but here is a long chapter that will hopefully make up for it! **

Chapter 4

"Please get in the car Dr. Watson."

John looked at the car, raising his eyebrow, then looked towards Sherlock "So Mycroft still has an interest in me, huh?"

The voice in the car replied "Of course Dr Watson. Now please get in the car."

John sighed. "What the hell, I don't have anything important to do." He slid into the car, making sure to leave room for Sherlock to slide in after him. "Hello Anthea... your still going by Anthea right?"

"Hello John, and yes I'm still Anthea." She said with a smirk.

"Hmm, this should be interesting. I've been kidnapped by Mycroft before, but never as a spectator." Sherlock commented as he slid into the seat next to John.

"Would you mind closing the door Dr. Watson?"

"Oh, right." John sent Sherlock a glare as he reached over him to close the car door. Sherlock mearly smirked and raised his eyebrow in a mocking gesture.

John looked back at Anthea who, as usual, was texting on her phone. "Buckle up gentlemen, this time it will take a while." Anthea said without looking up from her phone.

Immediately, Sherlock tensed beside John. "Gentlemen, Plural. Anthea should only be seeing you John."

John looked at Anthea, "Excuse me?"

Anthea looked up from her phone, "Put your seat belts on, our destination is farther away than usual."

"Ah, right. Where are we going?"

John didn't think Anthea had heard his question, she was still texting on her phone. A minute later she replied "Holmes manor." John raised his eyebrows and looked at Sherlock, who looked as surprised as he did, and was that a bit of worry mixed in with the shock?

Johns surprise turned to concern as he took in the slight worry in Sherlock's face. "What-"

"Do not speak to me John! Anthea is watching us, do not interact with me, this is important. Do not speak with me for the entirety of our time with Mycroft." Sherlock said urgently.

"But..." Sherlock glared at him, flicked his eyes in Anthea's direction, then turned to look out the window. John looked across the car to Anthea, and sure enough she had stopped texting and was looking at them. Her face was carefully expressionless, but John could tell she had been studying his reactions from the moment they had gotten into the car. He cleared his throat and said conversationally, "So, how far away is Holmes manor exactly?"

"About an hour outside of London." Anthea stared at him for another minute then went back to whatever the hell she was doing on her phone. John sighed, glanced at Sherlock, then looked out the car window as well.

An hour of awkward silence later, John got his first glimpse of Sherlock's childhood home. When Anthea said manor, she had understated... by a lot; Holmes "manor" was more like Holmes mini castle, and even had its own moat. John knew Sherlock was wealthy, but he would never have guessed just how wealthy he was. Sherlock's home was built in the middle of a small lake, and had a long fancy bridge that was wide enough to easily fit two cars. The house itself was five storeys tall, if John had to guess he would say it was probably around 100,000 square feet, and looked like it had been plucked out of the early 1700's and placed on an island in the middle of a lake.

"Stop gawking John, it's undignified." Sherlock broke his hour-long silence.

John turned to him, "This is where..." Sherlock glared at him then glanced towards Anthea, who looked like she was texting again, "Sherlock and Mycroft grew up?" John asked turning to Anthea and pretending he had meant to ask her the question.

"Yep." Anthea didn't even glance up from her phone.

The inside of the house was just as incredible. The halls were lined with priceless painting's, and every room John saw had a different theme and decorations. Mycroft was sitting in front of a large empty fireplace in what john guessed to be the living room. It had three large fluffy couches, two of which were facing the floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the back yard of the house, and five fluffy arm chairs. Two of the arm chairs were angled towards the fireplace, one of these was occupied by Mycroft, and the rest were clustered around the couches.

"You're gawking again John." Sherlock observed.

John looked to Sherlock, about to reply, despite the warning clear in Sherlock's face, but he was cut off by Mycrofts voice. "It's good to see you again John. My apologies for the long ride, but I felt that bringing you here would assist me in getting my point across."

"Oh? What point would that be?" John asked, walking up behind Mycroft's chair. Sherlock sat on one of the couches that faced the windows.

"Sit down John." Mycroft indicated the chair opposite him. John considered the chair for a minute then decided to go ahead and sit down. His leg had been giving him trouble again lately, Sherlock had noticed but strangely he never said anything.

"All right what did you want to talk to me about?" John said looking at Mycroft expectantly.

"How have you been lately John?" Mycroft said giving John his 'I'm better than you' smirk. John sighed, wiped a hand across his face, and settled into his chair. This was going to be a long drawn out conversation, and Mycroft would make sure of it. The only thing John was worried about was Sherlock, his time was running out, and John had not really gotten time to spend with him one on one today.

"I've been better, but you already know that Mycroft. Or else I wouldn't be here. What I can't figure out is why you still care about my well-being? Our... mutual interest is no longer around. You should have moved on to more important government things, rather than watch me go about my daily life."

"Now John, you underestimate your value. What would Sherlock say if he saw you sitting here saying you weren't important enough anymore? I, for one, owe you a great deal. You have done far more for Sherlock than I have been able to do in years. You can not possibly imagine how grateful I am that he met you." When Mycroft mentioned Sherlock, John made an involuntary glance towards the couch where Sherlock had been sitting. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, and looked at John smirking. Suddenly Sherlock stood up and began walking towards the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" John panicked. Sherlock paused and turned towards John, put his finger to his lips, and began walking again. "Sherlock!" By now John had forgotten about Mycroft sitting across from him.

Sherlock stopped again and turned towards John. "It's time for me to go, John."

"But, I thought we still had a little more time?"

"No, we don't. I will see you tomorrow John." With that Sherlock turned and walked out the door.

John stared at the door for a minute, and then remembered Mycroft. When he turned back, Mycroft was staring at him intently.

"John have you ever heard of a drug called Memoria Regenerationem?" All pretense of friendly conversation was gone from his voice.

"Uh, can't say that I have." John replied slowly.

"I do not think you would have learned about it while training to become a doctor. Memoria Regenerationem came about right around the time you enlisted in the army. It works by stimulating Brodmann's areas 18 and 19, also known as the visual association cortices, to produce complex hallucinations. Usually of a lost loved one, or a person you haven't seen in a while. It was quite popular for soldiers who had been deployed for a length of time, because they would be able to see a precious family member again. Far more favorable than looking at a flat piece of paper for a few years. You might have heard of it while in Afghanistan by its more common name Anamnesis." Mycroft replied. John's blood ran cold. He wasn't sure why, usually he didn't care whether other people noticed his strange habits, but John knew that Mycroft was the last person he wanted knowing.

"Oh, uh yeah, I've heard of it, I think a few people in my regiment even used it." John said, trying to stay calm and not show his distress visibly.

"Oh really? And you didn't dabble in it at all? You weren't curious?" Mycroft raised his eyebrow again.

"Well, yes, but only once. I spoke to Harry, but it was different from real life. I didn't like it, so I stopped." John figured he could tell the truth about that. Knowing Mycroft, he could probably find out whether he had or hadn't used while he was in Afghanistan.

"Really? And you have never had the urge to try again? According to my sources Anamnesis is very addicting. In extreme cases, if the user is seeing a person they loved dearly who has passed away, they will find it increasingly difficult to not put themselves under the influence. Eventually, they can't stand the thought of living without having their hallucination around, when their supply inevitably runs out the person is often prone to suicide." Mycroft's piercing grey eyes never left John's. While he was describing Anamnesis and its effects, they were cold and calculating. Now, though they softened, taking on a friendly yet still calculating effect. "Now I'll ask you John, as someone who hopes you consider them a friend, is there anything that you have gotten into lately that you would like to tell me about?"

Fuck, Mycroft knew. He had probably known for a while now too. Was this a bad thing though? Yes, it was. Mycroft will try to take Sherlock away. But there is no need to worry, I am in control. I don't need Sherlock around all the time, I just want him to be.

"Wha-... um. No, no there is nothing for me to tell you."

Mycroft studied John for what felt like an eternity, he never looked away; he just sat there watching him. When John started fidgeting he stood up, "Excuse me for a moment, John." And walked out of the room.

John wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Mycroft had never walked away from him during one of these meetings. Was Mycroft dismissing him? Was he supposed to leave, or just sit there? If Mycroft didn't come back in ten minutes John would leave.

Exactly 8 minutes later, Mycroft strode back in and sat down. "Pale skin tone, way paler than usual. Sunken in, blood-shot, eyes. Nervous demeanor. Talking to a person only you can perceive. All of those qualities are side effects of Memoria Regenerationem, they are also qualities that are painfully apparent in you John. I am not going to force you to stop, but for Sherlock's sake I am going to warn you that what you are doing is very dangerous."

'Very dangerous' the exact words out of Sherlock's mouth the very first time John saw him again. For some reason John found himself getting very angry.

"Very dangerous. Do you think I am fucking clueless about what I've gotten myself into? Do you think I never saw what Anamnesis did to the good men in my regiment, that I don't understand that is how they fucking died!? I saw how bad it fucking got! I saw the consequences of their actions, and I know what happens when you lose control!" John paused to take a breath. Mycroft's face had closed off and become a stone cold, calculating, mask, John figured it was the one he uses when dealing with hostile third world governments. "But, I am in control. I have seen what happens, and I'm aware of the danger Mycroft. I have a system set up, and I won't ever let it get worse than I can handle. Now, I don't think what I do is any of your fucking business anymore. I know that you won't stop watching me just because I ask you to, but leave me out of it." With that John stood up and walked out of Sherlock's childhood home without even a second glance towards Mycroft. The ride back to London was silent and uneventful.

––—

In another room at Holmes Manor, a tall, skinny, curly-haired man sat at a desk watching the video feed from a CCTV camera on a laptop.

"..._What I can't figure out is why you still care about my well-being? Our... mutual interest is no longer around. You should have moved on to more important government things, rather than watch me go about my daily life."_

"John, what have you done?" Sherlock Holmes whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands under his chin and listening to Mycroft's reply.

_"Wait! Where are you going?... Sherlock!"_ Sherlock's eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly, watching John's every move. John was not talking to Mycroft, he was looking towards the door. _"But, I thought we still had a little more time?"_ He looked sad.

Mycroft was watching John closely. Now he's bringing up the drug. John is suddenly wary, verging on defensive.

_"Uh, can't say that I have..."_ Yes you have John, you've told me about the drug before. That's the reason I was able to think of it so quickly.

_"...You might have heard of it while in Afghanistan by its more common name Anamnesis."_ John's already pale skin goes paler. He's talking about his experience with Harry. Good, he is telling the truth. No, he is denying using it now. Please don't do that John, not when it is so obvious that you are.

Mycroft enters the room soon after he leaves John, who looks slightly confused about the abrupt departure.

"What do you think?" Mycroft asks

"Obviously he is lying." Sherlock comments, careful to keep the worry out of his voice.

He is not quite able to, however, because Mycroft walks up behind him and puts a hand to his shoulder. Sherlock shrugs it off. "I can't be long," John was muttering about leaving if Mycroft didn't return in ten minutes, "Any suggestions? Or do you want me to handle it?"

Sherlock sat and watched John for a minute. For once in his life, he had no idea what to do. He didn't want to admit this to Mycroft however, he would never live it down, so he just sat there watching John's image on the computer screen. Mycroft stood behind Sherlock watching John as well; when it became apparent that Sherlock had no intention of answering, he turned and walked out of the room. Two minutes later, Mycroft reappeared on the screen.

He began listing the side effects of Anamnesis, and told John they were painfully apparent in him. _"...for Sherlock's sake..."_ that was present tense, unusual slip for you Mycroft. You left one out though, short temper. Mycroft told John what he was doing was dangerous, which was apparently the last straw. John blew up on Mycroft, telling him things about the war that, to Sherlock's knowledge, he had not even thought of since returning to London. John paused for a breath and when he continued Sherlock could tell he was still angry, but at least he wasn't shouting anymore.

_"...Now, I don't think what I do is any of your fucking business anymore. I know that you won't stop watching me just because I ask you to, but leave me out of it."_ Don't say that John, he is only trying to help.

John got up and stormed out of the house. Sherlock couldn't take it anymore, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "John this is all my fault. I am so, so sorry for all the pain that I have caused you." For the first time since those days after the fall, Sherlock couldn't stop the flow of tears that ran silently down his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After his meeting with Mycroft, John began taking Anamnesis in larger doses. He told himself that it was to relieve himself of the stress of the meeting. That a nice long chat with Sherlock would do him some good. Then, having Sherlock around all day was really nice, and John never lowered his dosages again. Which was a bad thing; because, a short talk with his supplier informed him of a new law that was passed recently, which outlawed Anamnesis. Apparently it had been in the works for a while and, after being rejected several times by Parliament, finally passed. It was a very believable story, but after his little chat with Mycroft, John found it hard to believe. And for once Sherlock agreed with him, it could not have been a coincidence that only a week after their confrontation with Mycroft Anamnesis is suddenly illegal. If Mycroft ever decided to check up on them again, John would have to bring it up.

Because of the new law, it was harder for John's supplier to get the amount of drugs John had used lately. John would either have to lower his dosages and not see Sherlock as often, or he would have to pay a significantly higher price for his usual dosage.

"Fucking Mycroft!" John whispered to himself bitterly. John wouldn't agree to stop willingly, so the man tried to make it impossible to for him to continue.

John was sitting in his usual chair in their flat trying to figure out whether he wanted to go back to seeing Sherlock for a few hours a day. Sherlock had sat with him, but he had left an hour ago. John was sad to see him go; however, he didn't mind as much this time. Sherlock had mostly been there to help John decide on his dosage amount, but he was no bloody help at all. He mostly just sat there in silence, and when he did speak Sherlock would only say things about John quitting and letting go of him. Which was absurd, why would John want to let Sherlock go because the price suddenly went up? No, John would not let Sherlock go, he couldn't. As for the money problem, all John would have to do is budget his money and not buy as many groceries. He could benefit by losing a few pounds anyway.

John heard someone knocking on the door downstairs, it was probably Mrs. Tidwell wanting to borrow something from Mrs. Hudson. He would let her answer it, Mrs. Tidwell was an annoyingly nosy person and John tried to avoid her as much as possible. She was a nice enough woman, but she could be as perceptive as Sherlock when she thinks someone is hiding something from her.

Going back to his money problem, John got up and went to the kitchen so he could find out just how long he could last with the food he already had. He started in the fridge, and when he took in the surprising lack of human body parts, had to remind himself that Sherlock had stopped experimenting since he had come back. John was too busy taking stock of the surprisingly small amount of food in the fridge to notice the footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Hello, John." The sudden noise made John jump, and he turned around to find Lestrade standing in the doorway with Sally, Anderson, and five other police officers behind him in the living room. "I'm real sorry about this John, but we received an anonymous tip. I'm going to have to ask you to step into the living room for a moment." Lestrade shot an apologetic look towards John, and then turned to the officers, "Alright, everybody fan out. Let's get this over with quick."

"Anonymous tip? What's going on Lestrade?" John could feel his anger rising slowly as the officers spread throughout the flat. Sally pushed past John, who had stopped in the doorway, to enter the kitchen.

"Come have a seat." Lestrade motioned towards the couch. "I'm sorry to have to say this, but I'm afraid it's a drugs bust John."

John's anger skyrocketed. "What!?"

Lestrade took a step back, surprised by John's sudden angry out burst. "Look, John I don't like this situation either. I was just given a list this morning by my superiors, and told to check out everyone on it. When I saw your name I tried to tell them that they had made a mistake. All they said was that there had been a tip from an extremely credible source, a-"

"'Extremely credible source' my ass! It was fucking Mycroft! That fucking bastard couldn't leave well enough alone. First he makes it illegal, then he sends the fucking police to my door, and to add insult to fucking injury he probably made sure it was you who would come and check the bloody flat!" John's temper was through the roof. The nerve of that bastard.

"Now, calm down John. I'm sure it was..." Lestrade was cut off a second time by one of his men running into the living room, from John's bedroom, holding a bag of yellow powder in his hands. "Oh, God. John, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I wasn't doing anything wrong, until Mycroft let his stupid fucking guilty conscience get in the way!" Somewhere in the very back of John's mind he felt bad for taking this out on Lestrade, but not enough to care at the moment.

"Now wait a minute John what does this have to do with Mycroft?" Lestrade asked, looking confused.

"Yeah, This law has been in the works for a while, it's just finally been passed." Sally added walking out from the kitchen.

"This has EVERYTHING to do with Mycroft! He has finally developed a fucking conscience after getting Sherlock...killed." John whispered the last part. It was the first time that he had acknowledged Sherlock's death since he began using Anamnesis. He had stood up when the officer had come running in with what was left of his stash, but now his legs gave out beneath him and he fell onto the couch.

"John?" Lestrade sat beside him on the couch, stretching out his hand to comfort him.

"What's going on?" Anderson had finally walked in, coming from the direction of Sherlock's room.

"We were just about to place Doctor Watson under arrest." Sally answered

"Now wait just a minute, Donovan." Lestrade began, but again he couldn't continue.

"You've just gotten off of probation for the Sherlock incident! And now we are standing here with the proof that Doctor Watson was breaking the law, and you're doing what, exactly? Nothing, is what it looks like to me. Well someone has to do their job here. John Watson, you are under arrest for the possession of the illegal drug Memoria Regenerationem." She walked towards John, all business. John,who was still in his own world at the moment, stood up and absently let her handcuff him.

The sound of the handcuffs clicking closed, seemed to pull him out of his reverie. John felt the anger coming back when he realised what exactly was happening. It must have been obvious on his face, because Lestrade jumped up and took his arm gently. And whispered an assurance that he would work it out and make sure John was released the next morning as he led him outside to the waiting police car.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N- I know its been a while since I last posted, but I had a serious case of writers block. Anyway I had hoped to make this chapter a little longer, but oh well. Enjoy! :)_

Chapter 6

Lestrade had, surprisingly, been able to keep his promise, and John was released from Scotland Yard around mid-morning the next day. He didn't go straight back to 221b, however, John ended up making two stops on the way back to the flat. The first stop was to his supplier; he needed Sherlock, and after spending all night in Scotland Yard's holding cell without being able to see him, John was sure that he would go insane. The second stop was to a coffee shop. Anamnesis is different from other drugs because it has to be mixed with a liquid to be able to take effect. John usually mixed it with his tea; but, after spending a sleepless night behind bars, he decided that he would need something stronger and opted for some black coffee. John had heard that Anamnesis tasted different when mixed with different kinds of drinks, so he was not too worried when his coffee tasted like he had added too much sugar.

After he finished his coffee John felt better, it would take the rest of the taxi ride for the drug to take effect, and Sherlock would be waiting for him when John got back to the flat. John spent the rest of the taxi ride pondering the reasons Mycroft would suddenly force himself into his life once again. By the time he had gotten back to the flat John couldn't wait to talk to Sherlock.

Sherlock wasn't waiting by the door like he usually did when John ran out of time on a trip. John decided not to worry about it, he had made sure that Sherlock would be with him all afternoon anyways. Plus, John was sure that Sherlock would be there by the time he reached the flat.

He opened the door to the flat, and froze halfway through the doorway. Drifting down the stairs was the sound of violin music. John stood there in the doorway, listening to the sweet melody, and the music took him back to a time when coming home to the violin was a daily occurrence. Mixing Anamnesis with coffee probably had a different effect than mixing it with tea, John would have to experiment on that theory later. In the meantime, John continued to walk up the stairs.

When he got to the living room, John paused again to watch Sherlock's tall, lean, form as he played. His back was to John and he was wearing his purple shirt that John loved. His curls were shorter than usual, and, as he played, John could see that his muscles were more toned than he had ever seen them. All in all, this was a totally different Sherlock than John had ever seen before.

* * *

Sherlock heard John walk in halfway through his song, but he didn't stop playing. He couldn't face John yet, not after what he did to him. He closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the ones he could feel fixed on him.

According to Mycroft, John had sat around brooding for most of the previous day, and had stopped interacting with "Sherlock" several hours before Lestrade had arrived. So the drug should have been out of his system for about 12 hours now. As a precaution Mycroft even located and bribed John's supplier to give him a placebo when he tried to buy more.

When Sherlock finished his song and turned around, he expected one of two things to happen: 1) John would be incredibly confused and Sherlock would need to explain, or 2) John would be pissed and beat the living shit out of him. Sherlock expected the latter would happen. What he didn't expect when he turned around however, was for John to go "Well this is new," and walk into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea.

"You would not believe where I was last night, Sherlock." He called from the kitchen. "Of course you probably already know that don't you?" He walked out of the kitchen smirking at him. Sherlock just stood there, dumbfounded. Some sort of emotion must have shown on his face, because John lost his smirk and pushed past him to sit in his chair. "Let me guess, you think what I'm doing is incredibly stupid, right? I've been caught once and will again. That why I'm getting the silent treatment? Well guess what Sherlock, I've tried living with out you, it was hell; and, I have no intention of going through that shit again."

This wasn't making any sense. John was acting as if he should be there. Like he was a hallucination, but John should be clean, he should be thinking clearly. Lestrade would have taken all of John's supply, and checked to make sure he didn't have any on him when he arrested him. For John to arrive at the flat when he did he could only have come straight home, assuming Mycroft had John released when the yard normally released detainees.

"Are you just going to stand there all night, Sherlock?" John asked turning in his seat to look at him.

"Oh... um... no, I was just thinking." Sherlock responded slowly.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sherlock needed to contact Mycroft and gather more information. But he couldn't just whip out his phone and call him. If John thinks he is under the effects of the drug, then his 'Sherlock' probably isn't on speaking terms with Mycroft either. And, from what Sherlock could tell by Johns reaction at Holmes manor, if he walked out to make the call John would think the drug was wearing off. Because of the drug, his mental state is very fragile now; if Sherlock does anything to upset him, John could snap and become extremely dangerous.

Making up his mind, Sherlock walked to his usual seat, in front of the fireplace facing John, and sat down. If John thinks he is a hallucination then tonight that is what he will be, until it is safe to gather more information.


End file.
